Vellumy whispered gently, "Don't c_w_y; we will make it all _w_ight--G_w_ay has brought you here for that purpose." But she stared wildly at him, not hearing or understanding his meaning. Meanwhile, Lord Randolph, who really had done all with a good intention, gained energy from the uprightness of his conscience, and said calmly-- "Now hear me, Tremenhere; I may possibly offend you by my interference, but my object in bringing that most unfortunate, most injured girl here, has been----" "Stop, my lord!" cried Miles, recovering his dignity, and soothing down his passion like a smouldering fire, more concentrated and intense in that apparent calm. "Though lost to all shame--though lost to me and my love, permit me still to claim a certain respect for the name she still bears--you forget that _girl_ is my wife--Mrs. Tremenhere!" "Your _wife_!" exclaimed both the other men in a voice. "Your wife! Good heavens! can this be?" "True!" answered Miles, coldly. "I forgot this was unknown to you--that is, _through me_. I came hither to-day, to leave you no longer in ignorance of my exact position, as you had done my wife the honour of a visit." "Merciful heavens!" cried Lord Randolph, agitatedly. "If this be indeed the case, I have been led into a grievous, but not irretrievable, error. Is this lady truly your wife?" "As truly as a twice-told ceremony can make her," answered the other, with a cold, doubting smile. "Is your lordship indeed in ignorance of this fact? and does the responsibility of your crime alarm you? Fear not--it is not by _law_ I shall seek redress when I demand it. There may be honour--if you know that thing more than by name--but there will be no laws to satisfy." Lord Randolph was pacing the room, uncertain how to explain himself;--Vellumy looked thunderstruck. "What!" continued Miles, in the same tone of bitterness; "did you think that was a frail creature, you were only making frailer still? that you were only deceiving a deceiver? giving to the giver his own again? I tell you, no; the creature was to me as the light of heaven--pure, sunny, gladdening all!--a gift of God to cheer me on my pilgrimage! Do you think I could look up to heaven, and bless it for its light, when I had condemned a soul like hers to crime and darkness?--to walk with me onward to the judgment-seat, and there kneel down and condemn me to hell, for the wrong I had done her? I tell you no, my lord; she _was_ my own loved, virtuous _wife--once_!" And the stern man's voice trembled with emotion.